


Pai Sho, Sex, and Other Ridiculous Games

by avatarish



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Future, Condoms, Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Pai Sho, Post-100 Year War (Avatar TV), Post-Avatar: The Last Airbender, Shovel Talk, hakoda says safe sex kids, they're nineteen and repressed and hot off of saving the world, what did you think was going to happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23961223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avatarish/pseuds/avatarish
Summary: It’s not that they’re careless, Iroh supposes. They’re young, and in love, and they want to express it; he can’t fault them for that.He just wishes they would be a little more...discreet with their expressions.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 547





	1. Iroh

When it happens, Iroh blames himself for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It’s not that they’re careless, he supposes. They’re young, and in love, and they want to express it; he can’t fault them for that.

He does, however, wish they would be a little more...discreet with their expressions.

It’s late evening and he’s walking back from the kitchens after a deep conversation with the cook about unique blends of sencha. He’s just rounding the corner to pass the royal gardens when he hears the groans. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up briefly, worry that someone has been injured flooding his chest-until, that is, he realizes that the stifled noises are of an entirely different nature.

“S-spirits! Zuko, ah-your mouth-”

Before his ears and his mind can fully connect, his feet carry him close enough to the room that he can see Zuko on his knees in front of young Ambassador Sokka. Iroh nearly trips on his robes backing away, throwing both hands over his eyes to protect his nephew’s privacy.

As he makes haste to his quarters, the soft moans fading into the back of his mind, he can’t help but smile. Relationships are often forged in the fires of war, and if Ambassador Sokka was half the man he seemed to be, Zuko had chosen well.

Still, he had one responsibility to fill, as Zuko’s remaining paternal family member. That was why he found himself up early in the morning before Zuko rose for the day and joined him for their morning pot of tea.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” he says gravely, his hands folded in front of him. “It has been nearly a year since the war and you are now nearing your nineteenth birthday. You have grown into a fine young man.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Zuko replies, looking confused. He pours himself a cup of tea, and Iroh almost feels bad for what he’s about to bring up. “I am deeply grateful for all your guidance.”

“I feel that you have perhaps missed important guidance on some...other topics.” Iroh sips his tea. “Adult topics.”

Zuko frowns. “If this is about the way that I chose to handle the trade disputes with the people of Omashu-”

“I am speaking of intimate relations, Lord Zuko.”

The rashy shade of dark red spreading up Zuko’s neck and cheeks is really very impressive, Iroh thinks. “Uncle!”

“I mean no offense,” Iroh says delicately, setting his teacup down with a clink. “I only wish to offer information that Ozai may have neglected to inform you of.”

Zuko’s golden eyes are boring holes into the floor between their cushions. “Uncle, I greatly appreciate your mentorship, but I can assure you that I-I am well versed in the details of intimate relations. I don’t need your guidance.”

“Protection is key, my nephew,” Iroh says blithely as Zuko sips his tea, his face the same shade of red as his robes. “I’m sure Ambassador Sokka will appreciate the effort.”

And, as expected, the hot tea jets out of Zuko’s nostrils, streaming onto the floor as he coughs and chokes. 

“Uncle,” he says hoarsely, when his nasal passages have cleared of hot tea, “Uncle, please tell me that you heard something through idle gossip.”

“Ah. I wish that I had,” Iroh replies ruefully. “I am just glad to hear that you are able to engage in some stress-relieving activities. Though I would appreciate not walking in on it when I am returning from my nightly tea debrief with Chef Katsu.”

Zuko’s face is buried in his hands, strands of hair falling from his elegant topknot. “Oh, spirits.”

“There is nothing wrong with enjoying the pleasures of the flesh,” Iroh remarks idly. “I was young once. Oh, my dear nephew, the times I had in Ba Sing Se-”

“Please do not say another word.” Zuko’s rubbing his temple with the tips of his fingers and Iroh supposes he should probably stop teasing him. “Please. I will play Pai Sho with you every day for a month if you cease speaking.”

“I’m very happy for you and the Ambassador,” Iroh says, and he hopes Zuko knows that he’s being sincere. “I would have known something was happening even without the incident. He is very fond of following you around like a lost little turtleduck.”

The flush in Zuko’s face is replaced with a soft pink glow, his lips pursing into a funny little grin. “I love him, Uncle.”

“Good!” Iroh stands, fetching the kettle where it has been boiling away over the fire and pouring himself more tea. “The world could use more love. We have a hundred years to make up for, after all.”

Zuko traces the rim of his cup, smiling to himself.

“Now go lead your nation, my son!” Iroh flapped his hands, ushering Zuko out of the kitchen and in the direction of the throne room. “And know that you have my blessing. You have always had it.”

Zuko bowed deep to his uncle, his golden eyes sparkling curiously. “My thanks, Uncle.”


	2. Katara

Katara has been looking forward to this week for months.

She opens the window to her guest room, looking out over the scenic view of the palace gardens, and inhales the warm, spiced air. One year, and she still didn’t think she would ever be used to the concept of the Fire Nation as a place where good could happen, much less a home to her favorite (and only) brother.

She’s walking down the hall a few minutes later, hoping to find Sokka, when she hears the quiet thumping sound from somewhere to her left. It’s muffled, but regular, like something is bumping against something wooden every few seconds. She traces it to a linen cupboard at the end of the hall, approaching with some trepidation.

“Okay, Katara,” she mumbles to herself, “it’s probably nothing. Just a bird that got trapped, or maybe Aang is playing a trick on you. Pull yourself together.”

She yanks open the door to the linen cupboard and screams as Zuko and Sokka fall out, leaping back to avoid being hit with any flailing limbs. They end up in a tangle on the floor, both of their robes wrinkled and-

And  _ oh, dearest spirits _ , she thinks, Zuko’s trousers are around his ankles. 

“Katara!” Sokka yells, grabbing the edges of Zuko’s open robe and wrapping it tightly around the Fire Lord as a bevy of guards come rushing around the corner. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“It’s a linen closet! I shouldn’t have to knock!”

When all is said and done, they end up sitting around the grand table in the throne room, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with each other and pushing spiced pork and vegetables around their plates as Aang talks animatedly about his visit with the Caldera City air ambassador. Later, when even Aang is yawning and it’s just about time to retire for the evening, she pulls Sokka aside.

“Katara-” he begins, but she shushes him.

“I’m not mad-” she starts, and then pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m not mad. I’m very happy for you, Sokka.”

“You sound not happy,” he points out, helpfully.

“I’m just worried!” She gestures at Zuko, still sitting at the table. He ducks his head towards his goblet, taking too long a sip and clearly making an effort to pretend he wasn’t staring at them. “Have you actually thought this through? What it means to be having an affair with an important political figure? What happens when somebody finds out about the two of you?”

Sokka stares at her for a minute. His lips twist up into a bitter smile. “You still don’t trust him, do you?”

“That’s not what this is about,” she argues, but Sokka is already shaking his head, that familiar stubborn anger rising in his eyes.

“No, that’s exactly it,” he says in a low voice. “You still don’t trust him. After everything he’s done-giving up his home to join us, coming with me to break Dad out of prison, offering me an ambassador position in his court-you somehow still think he’s going to betray us.”

Katara takes a deep breath and measures her options. There’s flat denial, which always begins a fun game of “uh huh! Nu-uh!” back and forth until one of them breaks. She supposes she could say she’s just having lady problems, but she hates that excuse-and Sokka knows she hates that excuse.

Or, she realizes, she could be honest and hope for the best.

“I’m worried he’s not good enough for you.” She looks down at the marble floor and chuffs her sandal against a crack there, probably left over from the war. “I trust Zuko with my life, but I don’t want just anybody trying to woo my brother. Believe it or not, Sokka, you’re important to me, and I want you to be with somebody who’s going to treat you the way you deserve.”

Sokka looks mildly stunned, and the peaceful silence of truth-telling lasts for about five seconds before he breaks out into hysterical laughter.

“I was being serious.” Katara crosses her arms, setting her jaw.

“No, I know,” Sokka gasps. He reigns in his laughter a little. Behind him, Zuko is openly staring, a look of confused concern on his face. “Sorry. I just-that’s exactly what Zuko told me you were going to say when you found out about us.”

“Great,” she mumbles. “I’m glad I’m so predictable.”

“Katara,” Sokka says softly, and he pulls her into a tight, unexpected hug before letting her go again, keeping his hands anchored on her shoulders, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I actually might not be good enough for Zuko.”

“Unlikely,” she growls.

“No, I’m serious. Do you want to know how I start my day?” He points at Zuko, who swivels away abruptly, shoulders stiffening as he begins loudly talking to Aang, who stops air-juggling peaches to listen, looking confused. “Zuko wakes up early to brew me a cup of tea-and, somehow, always knows what blend I’m in the mood for-and he kisses me on the forehead and tells me something sappy and stupidly romantic like how he was lucky to be born because it meant he could meet me.”

Katara frowns. “That’s-”

“Last month, I got really sick from the heat, and he went out in disguise to find me sea prune flavored monaka,” Sokka goes on, ticking off items on his fingers. “Do you know how hard it is to find sea prunes in the Fire Nation? Much less something frozen that actually stays frozen long enough to eat.”

“I didn’t-”

“And yesterday, before you found us in the cupboard, you know what Zuko spent most of the morning doing?” Sokka pauses, and Katara knows it’s for dramatic effect, not for her to get a word in edgewise. Her brother has always been a drama queen. “Worrying that you might not like the guest room that he chose for you, even though he chose it because it has a view of the pond in the palace gardens and he thought that seeing water from your window might be soothing for you in a city that holds bad memories.”

He taps her jaw with a finger where it’s hanging open and she shuts it abruptly. “I know you worry about me. I will admit that I’ve made some questionable decisions in the past when it comes to relationships. Like, you know, forging a long term relationship with a warrior girl I’d met once. But I promise you-Zuko is the best decision I’ve ever made.”

Katara pulls herself out of her mild shock and smiles. “Fair enough. I just want you to be happy. I don’t mean to act like a mother.”

“It’s okay.” Sokka yanks lightly on one of her hair loopies and she swats his hand away. Just like old times. “It’s nice to know somebody’s on my side if His High and Mightiness over there decides to do away with me someday.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Katara says under her breath as Sokka returns to Zuko’s side, curling onto the cushion that’s definitely only meant for one person and placing his chin on Zuko’s shoulder, arms wrapping around his middle. Aang seems to take this sudden change in stride, practically glowing when he points between the two of them and cheers.

She smiles and rejoins the group, putting off Zuko’s shovel talk for another time.


	3. Hakoda

Hakoda is thrilled beyond belief to see both of his children in the same room after nearly six months apart.

What’s less thrilling, however, is Fire Lord Zuko, almighty ruler of the Fire Nation, sitting next to Sokka with his legs crossed and his expression pinched, as if he doesn’t quite know what to make of all this ice.

Hakoda will begrudgingly admit that he does seem to be making an effort. He’s dressed down from his Fire Lord splendor, wearing one of Sokka’s blue parkas, some loose pants and white leg wraps. If it weren’t for the scar and the overall dark-cloud attitude, he’d almost look like he belonged in the Southern Water Tribe.

“Dad, stop staring,” Katara mutters in his ear, jabbing him in the side with an elbow. “You’re making them uncomfortable.”

“Hush, Katara. I’m observing.” He jabs a sea prune with unnecessary force, forking it into his mouth. 

She rolls her eyes at him. “He’s nineteen. If it weirds you out so much, talk to him about it.”

He fixes his daughter with an appraising glance. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“I love you, dad,” she sighs, patting his shoulder, “but you’re absolutely hopeless.”

-

So, after dinner, he retires to his own igloo and tries to organize his thoughts. It’s not that he’s against two men being together in that way, he thinks. It’s not for him, but there’s nothing wrong with it. In fact, he could remember a few couples like Sokka and Zuko from his childhood, before the tribe’s numbers had been decimated by the war.

No, he supposes, it’s less that Sokka has chosen a man and more the man he has chosen. His son was always ambitious, but this seems to be an awfully big choice for a first adulthood romance, he thinks. The novice ruler of a nation that, until recently, had been a colonizing, imperialist, genocidal world power? And, furthermore, a man that had, apparently, spent much of his teenage years actively trying to murder Sokka and kidnap his friend?

Hakoda shakes his head, trying to clear his mind, and exits the igloo. He’ll work through it on the way to the guest igloo, he decides.

He gets to the pelts covering the doorway of igloo, proud that he’s only turned back in trepidation twice. He finds it funny, really; he’s faced warriors, armies, men three times his size, and talking to his son about his intimate relationship with the Fire Lord is still one of the scarier things he’s done.

He’s just about to pull the furs back when he hears a soft keening sound from within.

It takes him a moment, but when his brain processes the noise he can feel the flush rising in his neck. 

Another keening sound, this one accompanied by a long, drawn out, breathy moan, and he knows  _ exactly _ what’s going on in that igloo.

“You’re so pretty like that, you know? I could keep you like this forever. Fire Lord Zuko, on his knees for me. Gorgeous. Yeah, open wide-”

And that’s when Hakoda remembers how legs work, and he backs up a few steps before sprinting the entire distance back to his igloo.

-

The next morning is awkward for Hakoda and, seemingly, nobody else. Zuko and Sokka are honeymooning their way through a breakfast of seal jerky and sea prunes, feeding each other small pieces and being mildly disgusting.

“Hi, Dad.” Katara plunks down next to him, a seaweed wrap on her wooden plate. “Did you sleep? You look terrible.”

“No.” He sets down his plate and turns to her. “Katara, I’ve always tried to be a good father.”

“You’re a great father!” Katara pokes him in the shoulder. “I think Sokka even considers you his favorite.”

He chuckles. “What a surprise.”

“I was really worried when they got together, you know,” she says, picking up her seaweed wrap. “It’s a big risk, dating someone like Zuko.”

“That’s why I’m worried.” He looks across the room at the two of them. Zuko is wiping a bit of sea prune off the edge of Sokka’s chin. “They seem happy now, but what if something happens? What if it ends badly? Zuko could banish Sokka. He could have him killed.”

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” she says hesitantly, “but Dad; I honestly don’t think Zuko would do that. Even if things were to end badly between them, Zuko isn’t the type for revenge. Not anymore, and not against someone he loves as much as Sokka.”

Hakoda sighs, poking at the sea prunes on his plate. “I trust you enough to know that you’re probably right. You’ve always been wise. Just like your mother.”

Katara smiles at him and  _ spirits _ , she looks so much like Kya. “Thanks, Dad.”

-

In the end, he doesn’t talk to Sokka about it. 

His son is an adult, he rationalizes. He knows the gravity of his actions, just as much as Hakoda knows that the boy he raised is full of passion and to ask him to question that passion is unfair. 

He does, however, leave an unlabeled sealskin bag just inside the door to their igloo one evening. Just as a reminder to both boys that he takes his duty as Sokka’s paternal guardian seriously.

-

“You’re not going to believe this.”

Zuko looks up from where he’s sitting on the edge of their shared bed, combing his hair. “What?”

Sokka tosses the sealskin bag at him.

“Ah. Well, that’s...thoughtful.” 

“Somebody in the tribe that I grew up in knows that I’m having sex,” Sokka says, sounding faintly mortified.

Zuko holds up the clear plastic packaging of one of the many condoms filling the bag, catching on the setting sun peeking in through the window. It alights on a piece of folded yellow parchment tucked just inside. “Look, there’s a note.”

Sokka picks up the piece of paper gingerly, unfolding it, and very abruptly throws it at Zuko, shouting in disgust.

_ Fire Lord Zuko and my dearest son Sokka, _

_ It’s been an honor to have you stay with us this past week. I thought that this might be helpful to you in your future endeavors. Lord Zuko, while you have my respect and my blessing, please remember that Sokka is my only son, and if anything were to happen to him, I would be most upset. _

_ My deepest regards and happiest tidings to the both of you, _

_ Chief Hakoda (Dad) _

Sokka’s head thunks back against the wall of the igloo, his eyes squeezing shut. “I am  _ never  _ going to hear the end of this from Katara, am I?”

“Probably not.” Zuko grins suddenly. “Do you think this means I can call him Dad?”

Sokka chokes on air.


End file.
